The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 391 Starting from the beginning

"My left hand is betraying me?!"

The werewolf stopped crawling towards the child and looked in astonishment at his ordinary but disobedient left hand. The next moment, a feeling came from his left hand and instantly spread throughout his body.

It is as if waking up from a dream within a dream, the unruly wild soul falls rapidly and falls back into the body constructed by the mundane world and human morality. It is like an extremely thick piece of clothing, heavily oppressing the inside, but also giving some warmth and comfort, so that the soul does not really resist being combined with it.

And then, Clayton Bello woke up.

Nausea, confusion, fear. The complex emotions almost made him vomit.

The memories and feelings of what happened not long ago did not fade away. They remained clear and complete, allowing him to truly feel for the first time another self born from the curse. It was completely different from him, and the so-called definitions of good and evil could not be applied to it at all. Its nature was more primitive.

That's pure selfishness.

When he regained some strength, the children's frightened eyes and cries made him subconsciously step back until he curled up in the blanket again.

Clayton was not a good man, but he could not bring himself to kill a child, a sibling of someone who had rescued him.

In order to save his own dying life, he ate the flesh of another werewolf, and the felony of cannibalism had consequences.

Fuck Black Talon! Fuck Lavine!

Anger accumulated in Clayton Bellow's heart, but his werewolf nature had not yet finished torturing him. These negative emotions once again transformed into hunger, causing his clear consciousness to return to chaos, and he instinctively wanted to complete another unfinished task.

His breathing became heavy, and he couldn't help but look at the children. Their shaking bodies and sobbing sent him a signal that they were non-threatening.

I dare not look at it anymore, I dare not listen to it anymore.

The body's cravings and the effects of the curse were intertwined, as was the burning pain all over the body. Any one of them was enough to destroy a person, and the battle-hardened Clayton was almost on the verge of collapse.

His eyes were bloodshot and he suddenly raised both hands at the same time, and using his last bit of strength, he hit his ears hard, shattering both eardrums. The world around his ears immediately became silent, and even if there were still some slight sounds that could be heard, they were hazy and unclear, as if separated by a layer of water film.

Then, he lowered his head regardless, picked up the algae on the ground and put it into his mouth again.

The sound of teeth grinding through algae did not fade away; it drowned out everything.

Clayton spent a while in this form of escapism until he was patted on the side and looked up at Joseph, who had returned in compliance with his orders.

The child was holding a pile of wet shells, his hands covered with cuts.

He started to say something, but Clayton could no longer hear him.

"Put it down." Clayton said with his own heart, and at the same time released the power of the evil eye. The boy loosened his hand, and the shells fell to the ground. He burst into tears in an instant, knelt down, and opened and closed his lips desperately to tell Clayton something. Clayton mustered up his energy to look at his lips, but he couldn't distinguish the language from the restless movement.

When the boy realized that Clayton seemed unable to hear, he used gestures to finally convey his meaning.

There is not enough food.

Shellfish cannot be eaten.

Clayton understood what he meant, so he put down the remaining algae and pushed them to the children, while he pried open a shell and slowly chewed the white flesh.

It does not have the delicious taste of seafood, but only the cold feeling of industrial fluorescent agents and metal.

The werewolf's tongue could only taste the smell of decay from this kind of meat. Too many pollutants remained in the habitat of these shellfish. Even if they could survive, the metal pollution and toxins had already invaded their bodies and pickled them. Even if the werewolf was an extraordinary creature, eating these things would inevitably cause endless troubles.

When Clayton didn't care.

The essence of meat is more abundant than that of algae. After eating about forty shellfish, he was able to stabilize his injuries. When he finished eating all the shellfish brought by the boy, although his wounds were not healed, his body had recovered basic mobility.

Basic mobility is the ability to fight against ordinary people.

Clayton stood up and wrapped a blanket around his waist to cover his shame. He glanced at the still hungry children and the unconscious woman, and finally returned to his thin benefactor. After dinner, he should make amends.

"Let's go get some necessities," he said.

Cutthroat Trail is an iconic area in the northern part of Weiodi. Gray and red are the main colors here. Messy and dilapidated houses are scattered without any plan, dividing this road into cracks in the ground.

Here, every few steps there is a dark alley that can be used for secret crimes and hiding places.

Shadows and crime go hand in hand here.

Grave robbers and alchemists whisper under the eaves, corpse collectors and folk healers who buy corpses come and go to make deals here, and almost everyone here is related to a gang member. Fraud, robbery, and murder are daily activities in this area. At least one outsider dies every three days on the Cutthroat Trail. When some gangs decide to settle their grievances with their opponents, they will also meet here to fight.

So, if a few people die here, it’s really no big deal.

The next morning after waking up, Clayton's eardrums had healed. He quietly moved through the cracks in the dark alleys and found the home of a robber identified by Joseph. He first knocked on the door, and when the man opened the door, he reached out and broke his neck. Then he walked into the house, spent some time searching for food and clothes that could barely be worn, and finally dressed neatly and went out with what he needed.

Joseph was waiting for him in the dark alley, rubbing his hands.

When they walked together, no one dared to open the door to cause trouble for them on the road.

Carrying a bag of food and money, and walking with the child towards another place where someone was waiting for them, like a father hurrying home, Clayton unexpectedly felt a sense of satisfaction from this behavior.

People tend to have wild thoughts in a quiet environment. When he was walking on the street, the first person he thought of was his niece Donna, whom he regarded as a daughter. However, she was already mature when she first met him, and she did not give him much joy of parenting.

He thought of some of the women he had had sex with. Maybe one day a child with black hair and yellow eyes would come to his house to claim responsibility, and he would gladly accept the child.

Clayton's injuries had not yet healed. After eating the shellfish meat, in addition to the burning sensation, he also felt some discomfort on his body, making him feel thirsty and tired, but he was still thinking about family matters.

He had reason to think about these things, and he couldn't help but blame others.

If his parents had worked harder, he would have ten strong brothers and sisters today; if Ulun and Cuitis had worked harder, he would have five strong nephews today; if he himself had worked harder, he would have two young and strong children today.

If that was the case, what reason would he have to contact the Black Claw clan again after learning about the death of his helper?
And even if he wanted to have in-depth discussions, when the Black Claw Clan knew that he had so many relatives, they would have to think twice before taking action.

Of course, in reality, the fertility rate of werewolves and humans is relatively low. No matter how hard they try, they may not be able to have more children. But that doesn't stop Clayton from fantasizing about this beautiful possibility.

upset.

Clayton once again began to doubt the curse that Chud Osmar had placed on him.

He had humiliated the other when he was alive, and laughed at the monkey's folly of unconditionally believing in blood relatives. But when it came to him, even though he knew that the two helpers died in the castle of the Conlionet family, he couldn't help but imagine that the Black Claw clan might be related to his ancestors, and maybe they could help each other.

It was these thoughts that led him to continue taking risks and end up in his current situation.

Penniless and unknown.

Clayton at least had a set of soldier's equipment during the most difficult times, but now he has nothing. Not only is he plagued by injuries and illnesses, but even his clothes don't fit him. The streets of Weiodi, which he could pass by quickly while sitting in a carriage, seem to be stretched dozens or hundreds of times longer for him. The ugliest places in the corners and gutters have also been magnified and presented nakedly before his eyes, leaving him trapped in this swamp, where he has to struggle for survival like the poor local residents.

It really hit rock bottom.

"Shit," he muttered, making the boy next to him nervous.

When they were almost at the shack by the river, Clayton gave some food to Joseph and asked him to take it back to his family while he went to find a doctor.

The children could not explain clearly, and Clayton did not know what illness the boy's mother had. She might have only suffered from some minor illness, but a series of inappropriate treatments made her condition worse. Clayton found several dark glass bottles that once contained opium tincture in the house, with the brands still on them. These were all bought by the patients from the pharmacy.

This kind of product is also available in Sasha City. Unsophisticated pharmacy owners like to recommend it to ordinary people. It is equivalent to a cheap painkiller and can also be used as a sedative for babies. A large bottle can be exchanged for a few pennies.

But if you treat opium tincture as a panacea and then suffer from lack of food and clothing, your condition will only get worse.

If left alone, she would die within two days.

Before he left, Clayton hoped he could repay the boy in some way for saving his life.

The doctor from the North District was soon called in. After entering the cabin, he spent some time examining the patient's condition. Then he frowned and said something to Joseph, which made him cry. This meant that the patient was already terminally ill.

After leaving a bottle of higher-grade painkiller and collecting the fee, the doctor left the cabin.

Joseph told the other younger children over and over again what had happened to their mother, and finally they understood their current situation, and they all started crying.

He looked with pity at the dying woman surrounded by her children.

"Maybe I have a solution."

Under the tearful gaze of the children, Clayton Bello took out the rare syringe that belonged to him and was looted from Lavin. After seeing what Lavin did with it, he roughly understood its function.

He inserted a syringe into his wrist and drew a tube of blood, then injected it into the sick woman.

"Hopefully this works."

(End of this chapter)